I want to talk to you, and I must return tomorrow. Anna raised her eyes. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. “Your success here is absolutely meteoric. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. Jackson’s. And then as we went down you’d try to explain. He seemed to deliberate.
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